


lay low

by daynight



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daynight/pseuds/daynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things overheard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lay low

**Author's Note:**

> no offence or disrespect intended in any way shape or form, not at all based on real life people, entirely based off actor depictions in a semi-fictional tv show!!!!

**midnight.**

the party was a wash-out and perhaps i had taken it too far, inebriated, yelling, starting fights. got thrown out. things would have gone differently if you had come too. but you didn’t and of course, i’m dragging someone home. no self control, as always.

she’s giggling, clinging to my arm and the corridors are extending, spiralling as we stumble towards my door. she’s sucking at my neck as i fumble with my keys. she was impressed with the way i punched her boyfriend in the face for stepping on my foot and opened her beer with my teeth. she might not be the best judge of character but shit, neither am i, apparently.

we tumble into my room, our room, and immediately, we’re kissing against the door, pressing into your tan jacket that hangs there. i make a point to crush its soft material in my fist as i trail my mouth down her collarbone. i close my teeth around the fragile bone, making her gasp. we almost trip over your stack of books on the floor. i spy your family photo rested on your desk, lovingly placed. at least when we get to my my bare side of the room, decorated only with overflowing ashtrays for my surreptitious smokes that you sometimes share, i can close my eyes to all this evidence that you still exist and fall, blindly, into bed.

i wish we hadn’t fought.

i wish i knew how to tell you.

i wish i knew how to focus. i throw myself into pleasing her, pulling up her dress as she unbuckles my belt. this kind of thing always came easily to me. kiss her, let her feel it, tug at her hair. she moans, dragging off my shirt as i shift my jeans down. easy. you were never easy to decipher, no matter how much i watched you, no matter how much i wanted to despise you,  _rich son of a doctor, god fearer, do gooder_ , you would surprise me with jokes and i found myself liking you. you’re as stubborn as me when you’re angry, maybe more. i don’t mind it.

i’m feeling in my pocket for protection, clumsy hands, and she’s helping me put it on. i’m trying to forget about everything and it’s almost working as she throws her arms around my neck and i’m losing it. pure blissful blankness, just what i needed. the only thing i can hear is the racing metronome of my chest and her breaths. I think I’m imaging some sort of drumbeat of footsteps outside, a jangle of keys. i’m emptying my head of all my troublesome thoughts and, strangely, i find my mouth muttering, words spilling forwards with a surprising clarity.

 

“Sledge. Eugene.”

 

if she notices, she doesn’t pause and i can’t stop myself.

pale shoulder blades, freckles. a hooked incisor, endearing. 

i'm so fucked, i'm so fucked.

it’s like I’m not in control of my own mouth.

 

“Gene. I -”

 

the light switches on. Eugene Sledge, you, stands at the door, backpack full of books and holding a plastic bag full of groceries, including my favourite brand of chips, presumably a consolatory gift. you drop it on the floor and a can rolls towards the foot of my bed, within which i am frozen in position, ass out. it would be farcical if it wasn’t so humiliating.

you have to have heard everything.

“what. the. fuck.” you say.

 

 

you turn around, slamming the door, running out. escaping. 

"oh shit!" I hiss, hastily disentangling myself. she makes a small noise of distress but i don't notice, can't notice. even when not in such a situation, such a state of panic, other priorities fall to the wayside in comparison to you. tunnel vision. i'm hurtling out of bed, heading to the door, pulling up my jeans, no shirt, trying to get to you. 

halfway down the corridor I catch up. you're a fast runner but i'm faster and i've had a warm up, thrumming with horrified, sickening adrenalin. i grab you by your backpack, yanking you backwards, desperate. you pull, trying to fight away in vain, but you could never beat me in a tussle, you who never grew up with as much as a bad word thrown in your direction, let alone a punch. 

"get the fuck off me." you spit, dangerous tones. i clench my jaw, hanging on to you with the tenacity of a pit bull. 

"Sledge." your face is burning red, you're swerving to avoid my eyes, attempting to escape, still.  "Sledge!" my arm anchors you to the spot and you seem to realize you're stuck here, with me. you round on me ferociously. your eyes are glazed with mortification and i'm terrified.

"is this your idea of a fucking joke? jesus christ..." lip curling with disgust, with upset. you rarely takes the lords name in vain and you're chewing up every word. it's almost painful, each syllable like a lash and i try not to wince. "i thought you'd stopped doing this shit." _this shit_. in those first few months there were many more girls who shared my bed and i'd tried to impress you with it. girls, drugs, drink. like it was so easy. dirty jokes to make a nice alabama boy blush, until i'd found myself wanting it less and less and wanting you more. i'd stopped doing that shit. what was i thinking tonight? _what was i thinking._  

"you know i'm a...you know -" i knew. 

you thought i'd said it to tease, to embarrass. to make you aware of how your experience paled in comparison to mine. to get back at you after a stupid fight that we'd had over something as ridiculous as your parents coming to visit. you think that i knew you were there and said your name to mock you, a practical joke.

you think i'm cruel, which is preferable to the truth, that i'm pathetic.

that i'm hopeless.

you turn away again, biting your lip, tensed up.

i wish you'd stop looking like that. i can't stand to see it. it's almost like when your dog died. 

"just leave me alone."

my arm drops away and i follow instructions.

 

 

"he's with Sid. why?" says Burgin, brows furrowed in consternation as i sigh and knead my forehead, swearing under my breath. the click of a light and a lit cigarette, a sanctuary. i inhale sharply. of course he's with Sid. that's who you always run to when you're in a mood with me. 

"no reason. if you see him, tell him i'm lookin' for him." Burgin shrugs. he knows when not to get involved. 

so tired, i stifle a yawn. the girl i was with screamed at me all night for running off on her and like an idiot i screamed back but she wouldn't leave until she'd let me know just what kind of bastard i was, on and on and on and then i broke a few things in my room, punched the wall, took a walk around campus. chain-smoking in the dark. looking for you. hoping to see you. 

but you've been with Sid, i guess. probably playing video games in his room, talking about classwork, football teams, doing the things normal boys do. no sniffing lines off your favourite book and laughing when you tell me off or staring at you for far too long until you smile and tell me to quit it. i clench and unclench my fist, testing the pain, blowing smoke out of the corner of my mouth. i could go try to find you but with the mood i'm in there's no guaranteeing i won't punch him in the face because you like him more and that would definitely the spell the end to this strange little friendship of ours.

i suppose i should just go back to our room and pick up all the broken glass from the ashtray i smashed. 

 

 

so i do and i'm on my hands and knees, glass tearing into the ends of my fingers, shedding blood, when you finally come back. 

a harsh intake of breath and big eyes take in the scene. you grimace then immediately join me on the floor.

you take my hand in yours.

"oh Snaf." you murmur. "what the hell are you doing?"

i point dumbly towards the mess with my free hand. 

"fuckin' thing broke."

a slight smile rewards me. a bemused shake of the head. 

"i can see that. jesus." you pull me gently towards our shared bathroom. you search in our cabinet and find the plasters. i can't really feel the tiny cuts, only the warmth of your hand. "you idiot." you say fondly. i grin, showing my teeth.

"sorry." i mumble. i really hate apologising but i'd do anything to go back to being close with you. " - about yesterday." you look at me, brow wrinkled, then roll your shoulders with a forced air of nonchalance. i focus on the movement, tracing the muscles on your back with hungry eyes, the tendons on your neck. the bit of red hair that curls under your ear.

"nah. i shoulda knocked. you didn't need to do..." a pause and a blush. pure and innocent. " _that_ though. not very cool." you finish wrapping up my finger with a clumsy plaster. "we should get a vacuum cleaner. to get the rest."

"mm."

you go down the hall to borrow it, then we clean in silence. your eyes dart over to me when you think i'm not looking. your mistake is thinking that i'm not always looking. 

you offer your old high school mug as a makeshift ashtray and we open the window wide, puffing the smoke out into the cool air as you go twos on my cigarette. you once said your parents would kill you if they knew you smoked and i said 'what about all the weed and the pills?'. you grinned and said that i was a bad influence. i love afternoons like this, you're laughing, thin t-shirt hanging off your back, arm brushing mine and fingers touching when i pass the smoke over. 

i can't help myself.

"Sledgehammer." i say. i use the nickname i gave you and all our friends adopted. "i didn't know you were there."

"huh?"

"the other night."

"what do you mean?" you're staring at me, totally serious, more serious than i had ever seen you. i frown and stub the cigarette out. 

"nothing." i turn to leave but you grab me by the elbow, too quick to be dodged. we're framed in the window, trapped in the dying sunlight. you incline your head slightly, a questioning gaze.

"Merriell?" i'd told you my real name about two months into being your roommate and you'd told me it was one of the nicest names you'd ever heard. made me feel like i could climb up into the sky and start a fight with the stars.

you know it's my weakness.  

the clouds are bursting behind your head, streaming orange beams, lighting you up and i can't find my words but you don't seem to mind. the edges of your eyes wrinkle and you start tracing circles on my arm with your thumb. you're staring at your own hand, as if you can't quite believe what you're doing. i hope you can't feel my pulse thumping in my veins. 

minutes go by.

suddenly, tickled, you snort, chewing at your lip and looking at me with amused eyes.

"so...you said my name, huh? that's so embarrassing." 

"shut the fuck up, Eugene." i can feel heat rise on my face but i'm laughing too. you haven't let go of my elbow, thumb still making patterns, fingers massaging. maddening.

"was she mad?"

"fuckin' furious."

"did you like her?"

"barely knew her."

"oh my god." you choke out, guiltily sniggering, doubled over. i go to lightly punch you in the stomach in revenge but you catch my hand and bring it to your mouth instead, placing a light kiss on the edge of my knuckles. soft lips over each bony ridge. tender. i don't think i can breath. entranced by your mouth, i slowly unfurl my hand and brush my thumb over its edge without thinking. your eyes slip closed and the hand that was holding my elbow, feather-light and timid, is gripping now, almost bruising. 

that's it. 

i'm so fucked. 

i don't deserve this.

i surge forward and press my lips to yours, stealing your breath.

 

 

it goes like this - 

the clean white sheets on your side of the room, egyptian cotton, the best money could buy,

all-consuming want, half-mad with need, grabbing, clawing, leaving marks,

i lean over you, my dark arms crossed over your pale ones, pressing you down. 

i almost tear your shirt in my haste as you undo my jeans. 

i run my reverential tongue over your freckled shoulders, up the side of your neck.

i laugh in astonishment at the way i can make you sigh.

you don't really know what you're doing, blindly reaching, but it doesn't matter because it's so nice and i don't know what i'm doing either because i've never fucked someone that i loved this much before.

i place adoring kisses on the soft skin under your jaw.

your eyes are closed like you're praying. i think you might actually be praying.

can't get enough.

give me more.

i'm too rough, too desperate to be gentle but you give as good as you get.

my wrapped up, band-aid fingers grazing your hipbone. 

your nails dragging up my back.

i've never felt anything like this 

i promise, aloud, so you know. 

i say your name, again and again and again and - 

you say mine. 

**Author's Note:**

> whew...


End file.
